


Forgiveness, Can You Imagine?

by willwrite4coffee



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Draco is Sad, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Hogwarts Eighth Year, Multi, Post-War, black!Hermione, but not explicitly stated - Freeform, draco and hermione are just bros, hinted indian!harry, not dating, ron is portrayed as an ass but he's actually not, write ron better storylines 2k19
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-28
Updated: 2018-12-28
Packaged: 2019-09-29 02:38:05
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,778
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17194910
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/willwrite4coffee/pseuds/willwrite4coffee
Summary: Draco walks through Hogwarts after the war like a ghost, but Harry and Hermione find a way to crack that glassy exterior of his: classic muggle literature.





	Forgiveness, Can You Imagine?

**Author's Note:**

> Title is taken from "It's Quiet Uptown" from Hamilton. This is based partly on my unusually strong incentive to write after almost a year of writing strictly academic papers, and putting off reading books for my literature course. I ran this through Grammarly once and don't have a beta, so any mistakes are my own! Feedback is not required but strongly encouraged! Please enjoy!  
> (Any novel included is not my own, and if you recognize any character they're probably not mine either)

The war had affected everything if Draco was, to be honest. Fearing for his life every day for nearly two years had taken its toll on his body. His face had grown gaunt and thin, his already tall, thin stature grew spiny, and if Draco raised his arms, his ribcage could be seen. This, coupled with the nearly permanent sneer on his face, made him appear as an apparition to anyone daring to cross him in the hallways.

Draco decided to return to Hogwarts for his eighth year, despite his mother’s urgings to stay home and help her fix up the Manor. Thinking of the Manor made both his heart and his forearm twitch; his memories of living with Voldemort had overpowered any familial ties he had to his childhood home, especially after his father’s sentence.

Hogwarts itself gave him a similar feeling: years of happy memories with his friends had become corroded by fire and the Cruciatus Curse. The only reason he was even there was Potter, who insisted on Draco's return to promote "Inter-house Unity" or some other bullshit.

The idea of home was quite up in the air, but Hogwarts would be a good comfort for now.

Draco had spent much of the year thus far avoiding anyone and everyone throughout the castle, and had succeeded by spending much of his time alone in his dorm quietly flipping through Pansy’s Witch Weekly articles or in the library, reading through whatever he could get his hands on.

Even as a child, Draco enjoyed reading. His father discouraged muggle novels, as they were beneath the pureblood standard, but Draco had a secret fondness for the science fiction and fantasy genre. Muggles had a way of explaining the world around them, and while it was completely wrong, it was fascinating to read.

And if Draco began to miss the dungeons, or the green and silver decorum that was both stately and inviting, or even one greasy-haired Potions master, he just enveloped himself deeper into the novel.

Which is why it came as a huge surprise to Draco when one bushy-haired Gryffindor placed a slightly tattered copy of 1984 on his table in the mostly silent library. Draco looked up at Granger, eyebrow quirked.

Hermione, to give her credit, didn't break pace. "I noticed that you're not always reading for academic purposes, and you seem to be a fan of dystopia. I would try Orwell. He's eloquent and complex, and the book will take some time for you to read," she stated plainly before heading back to her table.

Draped across a stack of books was the Weasel, snoring lightly, and beside him, Potter, with ink on his nose as he focused on a paper. Granger sat down before tapping Weaslby sharply and grabbing a book for him to read. Weasley awoke with a grumble and accepted the book as she dug in. Draco did not even realize he was staring until Potter looked up from his parchment and smiled at Draco. Draco could feel his ears growing red as he quickly looked back down at his novel.

After rereading the same line four times and still unaware of what was written, Draco began to pack up his things to head back to his dorm. After a moment of thought, he swept 1984 into his bag with the rest of his things.

__

He would never tell her, but Draco adored _1984_. The novel was a stark change from the other novels he had read and was long and detailed enough that he worked through it over a month or so. The striking similarities between the Big Brother government and corrupt Ministry made Draco uneasy, but he connected with Winston. His fears of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named were echoed by a muggle in fear of the Thought Police.

Granger, being a tactile woman, did not act surprised when Draco returned the novel almost a month later similar to how she gave it to him. However, this time, she was alone and was working on a Charms parchment. As he began to walk away, she called him back to the table.

Without looking up, she said, “If you enjoyed that, you may like _Fahrenheit 451_.” Draco simply nodded, unsure of what to say, and found himself with a copy of the novel next time he was in the library.

For months, he and Granger had this silent book swap, never mentioning anything. One day, as Draco is reading through _One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest_ , Granger sits across the table from him and begins to pull out her materials. Unsure of how to handle this, Draco stays seated and continues to follow the adventures of Randle McMurphy to the score of Granger’s quill scratching steadily on her parchment.

Later, when Pansy and Blaise interrogate him about this new friendship, Draco is just as confused as his friends are.

“So, she’s just handing you books now and sitting with you?” Pansy questions from one of the other bunks in his dorm, most likely Thomas’. Blowing on her freshly painted dark fingernails, she looks at him unamused.

Draco rolls his eyes from where he’s tucked in the corner of his bed. “I return them.”

Blaise from his place on the floor rolls his eyes at the both of them. “The point isn’t that you return the books, the point is where the books are coming from. It’s Granger. Know-it-All Granger, who’s suddenly decided to slip you books when she feels like it without a word said. She’s normally the type to say five words when one will do—how do you not think this is fishy?”

Draco sits up with his hands around his ankles. “I didn’t say I didn’t think it was odd, but we really don’t talk about it so there isn’t much I can say.”

Pansy’s dark lips pull into a smirk. “Maybe Potter asked her to keep an eye on you—watch out for your ‘tendency to self-destroy and be dramatic’.”

Draco sulked back into his corner at the mention of Potter. She was, of course, quoting parts of Potter's testimony from Draco's trial after the war. Despite years of animosity, Potter had vouched for both him and his mother in front of the Wizarding World, citing them as "instrumental in the defeat of Voldemort and in saving Potter’s life.” Once again confused at the niceness after years of name-calling, fighting, and curses from both sides, the two had settled into a steady but uncomfortable peace.

“Surely it’s not,” he muttered, “he doesn’t seem to care at all.”

Pansy and Blaise shared a can-you-fucking-believe look before dropping the subject, as Draco’s mind spun behind the meaning of Granger’s book-sharing.

\--

One day, as he and Granger shared their usual silent library time, Weasel and Potter plopped themselves down next to her, seemingly unaware of Draco’s presence. Without moving from her book, Hermione lifted her cheek to which the Weasel immediately pressed his lips to in greeting. Feeling odd about witnessing such affection, Draco’s eyes quickly returned to his book as his cheeks grew pink.

Potter smiled at his friends before taking stock of the table, his eyes widening upon landing on Draco’s figure.

“Hello, Malfoy,” he said politely, a small smile on his face, “how are you doing?”

Taken aback by both the question and the asker, Draco paused a second before answering with a short, “Fine.”

Potter’s smile slipped a little before he turned to his friends, questioning Hermione on the homework and Weasley about a Quidditch match as Draco returned to his book. As he read, his mind spun at the idea that Potter actually gave a shit, and what he was supposed to do with that information.

\--

Weasley and Potter had begun to stick around his and Hermione’s study meetings more often. The two turned out to be a somewhat necessary addition to the tense atmosphere. While the pair did not work, the weasel’s leisurely pace seemed to slow Granger’s quick thinking. Granger, in turn, would occasionally tap Golden Boy Potter to refocus his thousand-yard stare or even to wake up his nap. The three interacted as a single unit, and Draco often caught himself watching, mesmerized.

As Draco flitted through _War of the Worlds_ , Granger went to rap Potter’s shoulder before a freckled hand caught hers delicately.

“’Mione,” Weasley whispered gently, the tone startling Draco, “he hasn’t been sleeping. Gin told me he had been taking Sleeping Draught over the summer, but Seamus and Dean caught him in the common room early last week, just staring at the fire.”

Granger’s nose wrinkled, and she looked as if she were about to cry.

“Can’t you talk to him, Ron? Get him to open up?” she asked, staring at Harry as his glasses shifted down the bridge of his nose. The redhead shook his head, a grimace on his face.

“Gin and I both tried. If you ask him how he is doing, he just shuts down and changes the subject. For the supposed Savior, he’s bollocks at taking care of himself.”

The couple went back to reading, Weasley’s thumb rubbing circles across Granger’s dark hand as Draco wondered how many conversations he would have to overhear before he could do something.

When asking Blaise, because Pansy was shit at anything long term, he was directed toward the dreamy Loony Lovegood.

According to Blaise, who rooms with Longbottom, “she’s an expert at helping with trauma, even if she is a bit unconventional.”

Which is how he found himself outside the Great Lake, nearly in hysterics at facing a quiet pale Ravenclaw who is currently picking oddly colored flowers along its bank. He stood there for a good five minutes, trying to formulate a greeting, before hearing a faint “Hello, Draco” from the small girl.

Lovegood stood, a small handful of the yellow flowers in her grip as she smiled brightly at the Slytherin.

“Are you here to talk about Harry?” she asked dreamily, placing the flowers in her basket before sitting on the nearby bench.

Draco, after a moment’s hesitation, nodded and sat beside her.

“Yes. I, uh, overheard Weasley and Granger and I had been told that you were the person to talk to about this sort of thing but I understand if you do not want to talk to me because of, well,” Draco trailed off, losing his diplomatic tone in favor of confusion.

Lovegood looked down and began braiding the stems of the flowers together, a small smile on her face.

“Did you know that you’ve got a lot of drumdingers around your head?” she suddenly asked, a questioning look on her face.

“Uh, um, no?” he stated, confusion etched on his features.

“You do, they sit like a crown on top of your head. Nasty little buggers, they eat all those angry, sad thoughts once you think them. The worse you feel, the more you have,” she said simply, continuing to plait.

Draco, taken aback, continued to stare. “You think I’m sad?” he asks, a tad bit insulted.

Lovegood didn’t move. “Yes, I do. Besides the drumdingers, it looks as if those pesky Nargles have taken some of your things, too. I would be sad, too, Draco.”

“And what about Harr-Potter?”

Lovegood smiled sadly. “Harry is under a lot of stress, always has been, there just isn’t a fight now. The drumdingers love a fight. Harry is just fighting himself now, especially at night. That’s when they’re the strongest. This should help with your drumdingers,” she says, before handing him a messily-braided flower crown.

After glancing back and forth between the simple smile on her face and the crown, he softly placed the yellow crown on his head.

“There,” she said, before kneeling down to collect more, “all the drumdingers are gone.”

Draco stood to move, carefully balancing the delicate crown, but a small hand tugging on the bottom of his trousers made him pause.

“I have forgiven you, Draco,” her words a sucker punch to his chest, “but I do hope you begin to forgive yourself.”

Unable to catch his breath, Draco stands there for a moment before swiftly walking to his dorm, careful to not drop the flowered crown adorning his head.

\--

As the weeks went on, Draco repeatedly caught himself staring at Potter as he went through his day. Due to the small number of returning eighth years, the classes had been consolidated to one schedule, just like the dorms. This made avoiding Granger, Weasley, and Potter nearly impossible.

The trio had begun to worm their way into his daily life, and he would be lying to say he hated it.

In Potions, Granger became his partner as “Ron is honestly pants at Potions anyway and I know you had top marks our sixth year.” After Draco very pointedly reminded her that, no, that was Potter, Granger rolled her eyes before nudging herself into the seat beside him.

Weasley, begrudgingly, sat beside him in both Charms and Transfiguration, and Potter made sure to stick close during Defense Against the Dark Arts. The three would do or say nothing out of the ordinary as if none of this was unusual, and Draco began to feel as if he was taking crazy pills.

“Honestly, Pans! It’s as if nearly eight years of ridiculing and humiliation had never happened and we had been friends throughout all of Hogwarts the way they’re treating me!” he exclaimed, falling back onto the pillows on his bed.

His raven-haired friend, ever frustratingly patient, raised a perfectly coiffed brow at his dramatics.

“You’ll figure it out, Draco, I’m sure of it.” Draco’s annoyance began to build before he finally broke at one of their library meetings.

“Why are you all hanging around me all of a sudden? Have I become a pet project for the Golden Trio?” he finally snaps, slamming his copy of _Animal Farm_ hard enough to elicit a jump from the three Gryffindors.

They stared at him in shock.

Granger was the first to snap out of her stupor and looked sheepish.

“We noticed that you were going through it, you know, with the war and everything,” she began, her voice careful, as if she was talking to a skittish deer. “You’re jumpy and anxious, and Harry suggested that we keep an eye on you just in case.”

“In case of what?” Draco questioned, slightly insulted, “In case I try to go dark again? In case I start spouting off Unforgivables and torturing first years like my aunt?”

Granger attempted to backpedal, "No, no, no, I meant like—” Draco interrupted her, working himself into a fury.

“Like what, Granger? You can’t look me in the eye. I can tell that Weasley is always watching me, and will touch the scars on your arm every time I move to grab my quill! And you,” he spun on Harry, his grey eyes full of a storm. “You haven’t said two words to me other than convincing me to come to Hogwarts directly after my trial. If you are so concerned about my Death Eater tendencies, then a direct follow up would be appreciated. And get off your high horse, because some of us have deeper scars than a lighting bolt on our forehead.”

Taking a deep breath, and fully realizing all that he had said, Draco turned on his heel before swiftly walking out of the library. The trio stared after him.

\--

Draco had quickly found the best and worst place to hide: the Astronomy Tower. His memories here chilled his bones to the core quicker than the freezing winter air, but he felt that he deserved it after everything he had done.

He cast a quick heating charm before laying down and staring up at the winter sky. He had begun to search for constellations in the sky until he heard a voice with a deep timbre.

“Sirius.” Potter’s voice called, drawing his attention away from the sky and towards the last person he wanted to talk to.

“You’re looking at Sirius, the brightest star in the sky. A part of the Canis Major constellation,” he clarified, slowly walking toward Draco.

Draco rolled his eyes. “I am named after a star, as per Black tradition, Potter. I know what I’m looking at.”

Harry’s face blanched. “Right,” he said, the tips of his chocolate ears going red. The silence was deafening and awkward before he spoke again.

“Sirius was one of the first people to teach me that people aren’t good or bad,” Potter started, moving to sit next to Draco’s still laying form.

“He was a good person, despite his mother, despite the pressure to be something he wasn’t, he still was a good person, from the time he met my parents to…to the end.” Harry’s voice faltered, thinking of his fallen godfather.

“I know where you’re going with this, Potter,” Draco sighed, playing with his hands, “you’re going to tell me that just like Sirius, I’m good, and I’ve savable, and I’m fixable, but you’re wrong. I’m not this project that you can fix. I made terrible decisions, I made evil decisions, with real consequences. That wasn’t all familial pressure.”

Harry abruptly grabs Draco’s cold hands in his, and the heat causes Draco to shiver.

“You are not evil. It was war, Draco. You did what you had to survive, to keep your family alive. Not everyone makes the clearest decisions when family is involved,” he says firmly, his intensity causing Draco’s heart to flip.

Draco scoffs. “You would make the same decisions if your family was involved?” Harry shakes his head.

“I don’t know what I would’ve done, but I know that while you made mistakes, you show regret. You helped me at the most critical times in my life, and I will forever be grateful for your help,” he says, still gripping Draco’s hands.

Draco looks at their hands for a moment, before softly asking, “How can you forgive everyone else except yourself?”

Harry looks shocked at the question but allows Draco to continue.

“Harry, you’ve done enough for the wizarding world. You’ve been fighting for these people since you were quite literally a baby. Why do you feel the need to atone for something? You saved the world, so many mud-muggle-borns,” Draco corrected himself. “So many lives.”

“There are so many lives that I couldn’t save. My parents, Cedric, Sirius, Mad-Eye, Fred, Remus, Tonks, Lavender…” Harry trailed off, feeling his voice break as he let go of Draco’s hands to run them through his messy hair, “I can’t help but feel responsible.”

Draco sat up and faced Harry. “That’s stupid.”

Harry wiped his eyes before looking at Draco. “What?”

“That’s stupid,” he repeated, feeling himself begin to grow agitated, “They chose to fight. They knew the cost. They didn’t die because of you, and they didn’t die for you. They died for what they believed in. You should at the very least acknowledge that the war didn’t revolve around you. Forgive yourself and forgive them because holding grudges against the dead only leads you closer to death.”

Harry is silent for a few moments before dropping his hands into his lap.

“You’re right, but I still haven’t forgiven myself for hurting you,” he says softly, pushing his glasses as they fall up onto the bridge of his nose.

Draco unconsciously touches the scars that create the swirling pattern across his shoulder blades.

“I tried to Crucio you,” he defended, as Harry pulls Draco’s hand into his once again, “and what is your fixation with my hands?”

“That doesn’t make it okay, Draco,” ignoring the second question, “because a part of me wishes that we talked and that I could have saved you from him.”

Draco felt his pulse freeze at the mention of the Dark Lord but was determined to keep his cool.

“Nothing could have saved me, Harry. You could have used as many disarming spells as you could think of, my father was in his pocket. He was in my home.”

“I’m still sorry,” Harry said, voice somber, “I wish that I could help you.”

Draco shrugged before pushing himself to his feet and brushing off his trousers before holding out a hand to Potter.

“I wish that you would help yourself," he said, looking down at Harry.

Harry looks back. "How about we both work on forgiving ourselves, and each other will follow?" he asks with a small smile.

"Deal, but I have to apologize to Weasley and Granger first. I could use your help in getting my hands on something a little less world-ending to read from Granger, though. I’m ready for some happy endings,” he said with a smile.

Harry gave a small laugh before taking Draco’s hand and pulling himself up. The pair, laughing, walked out of the Astronomy Tower and towards the dorms.

\-- Months later

Draco and Hermione sat in companionable silence in the library, a stark contrast to the frantic stress of their fellow classmates as NEWT levels drew nearer and nearer. Hermione, ever the planner, had blocked off this specific time for studying her Charms work, while Draco was pushing off studying to engross himself into Jane Austen’s _Persuasion_.

As Draco felt tears of frustration forming at Anne letting Captain Wentworth go (again!!), Hermione stifled her giggles.

He looked up sharply at her. “I told you, you’re going to get frustrated but it all works out in the end,” Hermione stated, a twinkle in her eye.

At that moment, Weasley and Harry appeared, Weasley carrying an armful of snacks and Harry balancing three teacups.

Without looking up, Hermione raised her cheek to which Ron pressed his lips, and Harry pouted his lips in the air towards Draco mockingly.

Not even losing a line of his novel, Draco pushed Harry’s lips away with his fingers.

Harry then grabbed Draco’s wrist, placing a delicate kiss on the Mark before seating himself beside Draco.

Ron pretended to gag before plopping next to Hermione and opening a chocolate frog. “If you get chocolate on my parchment, Ronald, I’ll send Ginny after you,” she said calmly, brushing a strand of her hair back from where it fell from her bun.

Beside Draco, Harry chuckled at Weasley's pout before handing Draco his cuppa. Harry sipped on his tea and read over his shoulder, his breath faintly smelling of treacle tart. Draco watched him out of the corner of his eye, a warm feeling slotting in chest. He quickly turned and pressed a light kiss on Harry's lips, causing the shorter man to hum in delight.

In the midst of all the chaos, Draco finally found himself at home and at peace.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading, and I hope you enjoyed! If you feel like it, please come talk to me on my tumblr :)


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